All These Things That I've Done
by morphine cowboy
Summary: When Claire goes missing, Sawyer is forced to confront his past on the island. Some Conmama and some twisted Sana.
1. Chapter 1

The jungle always seems bigger when you are running from something. All the recognizable landmarks you thought you had learned over the months are no longer there, instead it's the trees pressing in on you from all sides, and no matter how long you've been walking you can't escape the claustrophobia. The humidity seems to increase with each footfall, the sweltering heat becoming more oppressive with each corner turned that doesn't lead you to your destination. And every noise seems to come from every direction, and it seems to follow you, an inescapable omen of your approaching fate. You begin to lose your wits; you begin to see things. It happened to a lot of them. Maybe it was the stress, the unequivocal fear, or the sheer lunacy of the events that happen on the island. Or maybe it was nothing. But when you're running from something the jungle _always _seems bigger.

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Sawyer was beginning to edge towards that panic produced by the knowledge that something is hunting you, and it's lurking somewhere in the jungle; tracking and waiting. Dawn was beginning to break as he weaved through the trees with the small group of survivors. He hadn't said anything to them; what was there to say? But as he realized he was utterly and completely lost, he turned around with a snarl, ready to demand that someone help by giving him directions as to where to go next. He was caught off guard when Claire looked up at him, giving a reassuring half smile. The hostility melted immediately, and he was a bit shocked by how she could defuse him so quickly. She was rocking Aaron, perhaps trying to lull him into sleep.

Miles was standing a little ways behind them, feeling particularly useless, and just as lost as the rest of them. He had a forlorn look in his eyes, and kept his arms firmly folded across his chest. He had been blindly following Sawyer, lost in his thoughts and was beginning to look particularly exhausted.

"You wouldn't happen to have any idea on where we are?" Sawyer addressed Claire, trying his best to keep the frustration out of his voice.

"Unfortunately Locke didn't draw me a map before we left him in the middle of the night," she replied as her face lit up with a smile; Aaron had finally drifted off to sleep. "I'm guessing we're lost then?" she continued, her voice a little softer now.

"I guess so, unless Bruce Lee back there has himself a GPS system," Sawyer joked, but Miles remained silent, merely shaking his head.

"I've got an idea," Claire mused, "since I miraculously got Aaron to sleep, why don't we take a little rest and get our bearings?"

"I dunno if I like the idea of waiting around for them to come pounce on us," Sawyer countered. But the exhaustion was really getting to him, and he had no idea where he was going. He could be walking right towards Keamy and the others from the freighter, or in the complete opposite direction of the beach. Nevertheless he wanted to keep moving. "Tell you what, let's find somewhere out of the way, then you and the little bambino can get some rest while I scout out ahead."

"Thanks Sawyer," she smiled as they headed a little deeper into the jungle. Eventually they found a nice, out of the way area where a group of rocks shielded a small plot of land from the rest of the forest. A lone palm tree cast shade around the little area, and Sawyer helped them settle in before addressing Miles. "I ain't gonna be gone long, but while I am," he lowered his eyes and his voice took on an ominous tone, "but you better be willing to give your life to protect Claire and her baby while I'm away, or I'll take it from you when I get back. Comprehende?"

"Yeah," Miles muttered as he slumped down in the shade, and leaned against one of the rocks. "But I'll need your gun, I mean if you want me to be able to do anything."

Sawyer reluctantly pulled out the 9mm hand gun he had been carrying. Miles stretched out his hand, beckoning for the weapon. Sawyer glanced over his shoulder at Claire, cradling Aaron, and released his grasp on the gun. He nodded to Miles, and stood up, though his feet were still aching and his head was pounding.

"You sure you don't want to take a quick breather?" Claire asked, looking up at Sawyer.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," he smiled back meekly. "Just look after yourself, and don't let that one do anything sneaky," he indicated over to Miles.

"I can still hear you asshole!" Miles shouted back. Sawyer dismissed him with the wave of a hand, and left the impromptu camp behind.

He walked slowly away from the cluster of rocks and trees, trying his hardest not to run back and lounge in the shade next to Claire. But then what? When he was all good and relaxed, they'd be just as lost as they were before. He wiped the sweat from his head before continuing out into the jungle. There would be plenty of time to rest at the beach. The cool breeze of the ocean, the relatively plentiful supply of food and water, and of course there was Kate. But she had left him. Well used him, and then left him. He slowed down, as drowsiness washed over him. Breathing heavily, he leaned against a tree to try and keep his balance.

"What the hell am I doing," he asked himself, then pushed off, heading back out into the jungle. As he walked tentatively through the trees, he tried his hardest to remain focused on his surroundings; searching for anything that might indicate what direction he needed to head. At the same time, he was trying to make a mental note of the path he took, so he could get back to the camp if he found anything.

He lost track of time as he continued to head through the jungle, as the sun beat mercilessly overhead. He vaguely became aware that he hadn't gotten any resemblance of rest since the barracks was attacked the previous day. His head throbbed as he continued on, scanning the horizon half heartedly. Soon his vision began to fade in and out of focus, and he simply collapsed under the nice shade of a tree.

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It took a little while before the panic set in. At first, if only for a precious moment, he felt refreshed. Then, as he slowly put the pieces together, he realized he was in trouble. The sun was pretty high in the 

sky, but that didn't mean much to him, he never was the type to learn how to tell time by the movement of the sun; Locke, Sayid, or one of the others was always able to do it. He hobbled to his feet, and instantly began attempting to retrace his steps; there was no telling how much time went by, and Claire could be getting worried.

He was now tearing through the jungle, fully awake. He put his trail together as he ran, silently cursing himself for taking such an arbitrary course away from the camp. But wrong turn upon wrong turn soon left him backtracking, and his frustration soon morphed into fear. He paused for the first time since he woke up to find himself somewhere familiar. He narrowed his eyes, and noticed the outline of the rocks that formed one end of the small camp.

Without thinking, he shouted, "Claire!" and was met with an unsettling silence. He automatically reached for his pistol, before realizing he had given it to Miles. A sense of foreboding filled him as he crept towards the camp, and his fears were confirmed as he entered what Claire had called the little oasis. Except, now she wasn't there and neither was Aaron. Miles was, well at least in a sense. He was slumped against the rocks in the same fashion as he had been when Sawyer left, except now there was a very noticeable bullet wound in his abdomen.

Sawyer could tell he was still alive; his eyes were as wide as saucers and he was groping the air. His face was pale, and he had a hand clutching the wound, although it was covered in blood, some dry, some fresh. "Where's Claire?" Sawyer asked, looking around for any sign of what had happened. The gun he had handed Miles was still there, discarded a little ways away from Miles. Sawyer quickly inspected it to see that a shot had been discharged from it. "Where's Claire?" he repeated, this time harsher.

"H-h-help me," Miles stuttered, wincing as the words came out. Sawyer was becoming increasingly frustrated, "Once you tell me what happened to Claire! Did your buddies from the helicopter come back? I need answers!"

Miles coughed, and looked as if he was to shake his head and then stopped, resting his head against the rock and closing his eyes. "Please," he pleaded.

"Tell me somethin', anything!" Sawyer demanded. Suddenly he heard footsteps behind him. He froze, tensing up, wondering if he was imagining the approaching figure.

"You can stop questioning him James, I doubt he'll be able to tell you anything, considering the state he's in," a voice said with a sinister twist. This time it was Sawyers eyes that went wide. It was a voice he hadn't heard in a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N; sorry it took so long, ap exams and other things have been tying up my schedule. Third chapter will be up much sooner.

At first Sawyer refused to acknowledge the figure behind him; all logic told him that it was impossible that the man was there. So he swallowed hard, and kept his eyes focused on Miles, willing his mind to stop playing tricks on him. "I'm only going to ask you one more time. Where's Claire?" Sawyer said through clenched teeth. But Miles, looking thoroughly disoriented, was barely able to register what had been asked, much less put together a coherent response.

Instead, Sawyer heard a mocking laughter from behind him. "I told you, there is no information you can possibly gain from that man. He's on his way out." Sawyer remained silent, clenching his fists, unwilling to turn around and face the man who couldn't possibly be behind him. "I however, know exactly where Claire Littleton is."

This was too much for Sawyer, who turned around immediately after hearing this. "Then why the hell don't you go ahead and tell me!" Sawyer demanded. He paused for a moment, unable to register that there _was _a man behind him that _he _had murdered on the island. He saw the smug smile of Anthony Cooper, the man who had conned his mother, causing his father to kill her and himself.

"Well for starters, I remember you murdering me. I think that alone is reason enough for me to withhold any information I might possess."

"And for starters I remember you ruinin' my life. I think that makes us even. Now why don't you tell me where Claire is?"

"I didn't ruin your life James, your father merely overreacted. It's not my fault the man couldn't handle a bad beat. You should be blaming him, and your dumb mother." The shock had worn off by now, and it was quickly replaced by rage. Sawyer tensed up, with murder shining in his eyes. "You're not going to pull another letter out for me to read, are you?" The grinning Cooper mocked.

"I'll kill you again, I swear to God," Sawyer spat out through clenched teeth.

The old conman let out a knowing chuckle and shook his head. "I'm still dead James, you can't kill me."

Sawyer narrowed his eyes, and breathing heavily said, "Well at least I can have some fun tryin'." Without warning he threw a right hook that connected with Anthony Cooper's nose with a sickening crack. He continued his onslaught mercilessly, tackling the man he had once murdered to the floor. He brought his hands up as quickly as possible, clenching them around the man's neck in a death grip, his 

thumbs push hard into Cooper's throat. "Tell…me…where… Claire is!" Sawyer spat out as he concentrated all his force into hurting the old man.

But the man didn't attempt to respond. His arms weren't desperately flailing around, nor was he trying to buck his assailant off. In fact he made no effort to turn the tables, and didn't denote that he was in the slightest bit of pain. After a full two minutes had passed, Sawyer slowly began to relax his grip before letting go. He fell to the floor, trying to catch his breath. Finally he collected himself and his eyes bore straight into the man he had once killed.

"You can't kill me twice," the old con said with a smile.

"If you ain't gonna tell me where Claire is, mind at least revealing why you're here?"

"Ain't it obvious James, you're losing your mind," Cooper laughed as he readjusted his collar. "Come on; let's go for a little walk."

Sawyer begrudgingly obliged, but pushed ahead of the man as he left the camp. "I gotta get looking for Claire anyways," he muttered, half to himself and half to Cooper. Before he left, he took one last glance over his shoulder at Miles. The injured ghost whisperer's eyes were drooping down, and his breathing became labored. He seemed to focus all his energy into fighting away his imminent death, managing to spit out one last plea for help. "W-Wait."

Sawyer shook his head regrettably, and then faced Anthony Cooper. "Let's go, we don't have any time to waste."

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They walked side by side and in silence. But Sawyer was deep in thought, trying to figure how he could extract the information from Cooper. As if on cue, the man next to him said, "The only way I'll tell you where Claire is, is if you con it out of me. And you can't con a con,"

Sawyer looked over at him with arched eyebrows but said nothing. "Well at least a con who's worth his salt," Cooper said with laugh, "you however got conned by my good for nothing son! I don't know how you've survived all these years. People must be getting dumber."

Sawyer remained quiet, concentrating on formulating a plan. The sounds of the jungle had seemed to disappear, but the light of the sun managed to beat down upon him with a previously unknown intensity. He was still feeling light headed and woozy, still not having had anything to drink or eat. As 

he walked forward, trying to think of a way to extract the information, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Slowly he turned his head out into the jungle and saw two men casually talking in the trees not too far away. He squinted, and stopped dead in his tracks upon recognizing them. There was the Marshall that he had shot, and missed, forcing Jack to euthanize him against his will. He was talking to Mr. Tom Friendly, an Other Sawyer had killed after he had surrendered.

Tom seemed to notice Sawyer's gaze and gave a salute. The Marshall in turn gave a smile and a wave. Sawyer clenched his eyes shut, and rubbed the sweat off of his brow. When he re-opened them the two men were gone.

Becoming paranoid and worried he scanned the forest around where they were, but saw nothing. Slowly he turned back around to where Cooper was before. No one was there. He collapsed to the ground, exhausted, dehydrated, and alone. Worst of all he was no closer to finding Claire or Aaron. Then he began to realize his encounter with Cooper might have been all in his head, brought on by trauma, exhaustion, and the heat. But the fight and the conversation, it all seemed so real. He ran his hands through his hair, forcing himself to come up with a plan on where to go. Then he heard something, footsteps not too far away. Then there was a voice.

"Hey cowboy, you don't look so hot."

He slowly raised his head, and leaning against a tree in front of him was Ana-Lucia Cortez.

A/N: please leave a review to tell me what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

Sawyer instinctively looked away from the woman in front of him, and slowly rose to his feet. She was simply another manufactured byproduct of his exhaustion induced insanity, at least that's what he told himself. He walked briskly forward, denying himself the satisfaction of checking to make sure Ana _was _there.

"Hey, I'm talking to you," she addressed him again.

He continued onward, willing himself not to look. "I ain't got time for this," he muttered under his breath, partly to her but mostly to himself.

"Well, I have all the time in the world," she remarked casually, playing with her fingernails. She pushed off the tree and began to trail Sawyer, who was clearly making an effort to remain silent. "You don't know where you're going do you?"

"Away from you," he said, this time louder and harsher.

"I would've thought you'd be nicer, considering the circumstances and all," Ana spat at him, her voice dripping with malice.

Sawyer let out a humorless laugh. "The circumstances? The circumstances are that Claire's gone missin', and I'm here wastin' my time!"

"No," she corrected, "the circumstance is that I'm dead and…"

"Well that ain't my fault," Sawyer interrupted curtly.

"Really?" Ana questioned, arching her eyebrows and placing her hands on her hips. She slowly walked over to Sawyer, and grabbed one of his hands. Sawyer looked down at her, but said nothing. He met her eyes for a second, but there seemed to be no emotion. She lifted his hand and placed it on her chest, and he instinctively looked away, trying to move his hand. But she wouldn't let him.

"Look at me,'" she demanded, and he obliged. "This is where your friend shot me with your gun." She made a special effort to emphasize the word your. She was so cold to the touch, and he couldn't feel a heartbeat.

"Look muchacha, I never said he was my friend. And you stole the gun, I didn't have much say in the matter."

"You knew exactly what was goin' down. It was a trade, mutually beneficial," she laughed, "well at least it seemed that way at the time."

"Well, I'm glad this whole dyin' business hasn't taken away that precious sense of humor you're famous for," Sawyer sarcastically remarked.

Ana didn't respond, and the hostility was replaced by a somber silence. Sawyer waited for her to speak, but she just stared intently at the ground. He shook his head and began walking away again.

"Why didn't you stop me?" Ana asked in a voice more reserved than Sawyer had ever heard her speak in before. "You could've saved me."

Sawyer was about to throw this accusations right back in her face, tell her that it was her own damn fault for giving Michael the gun, for taking the gun in the first place. But as he looked at her, he held his words, choosing to stand there in the awkward silence.

"Did you even care about me?"

Silence.

"In the jungle, did you care about me, or what was that?"

Still Sawyer said nothing. "Not talking?" she chuckled, "well you have to admit we had some chemistry,"

Sawyer now looked up, slightly amused. "So you had a little thing for me. That's okay Ana-Lulu, your secrets safe with me."

"It doesn't matter now, I'm dead."

"Look this chat has been nice, but I really gotta find Claire." Sawyer said as he tentatively began to walk away again.

"Since when did you become her guardian angel?" Ana asked this time walking away from him.

"Since when did it become any of your business?" he shouted back, relieved that he could begin his search for Claire again, but disheartened that his time with Ana was ending. He looked over his shoulder ever so briefly, and a part of him wanted to turn around and go back to her, spend more time with her, time that was stolen by a selfish man. If what Ben had said was true and Michael really was on the freighter… But then he knew he had to push forward and save Claire. He couldn't wallow in the past; he couldn't build upon a relationship that was well, dead. So he clenched his fists and pushed forward, trying to focus on the soft smile of the blonde Australian instead of the intense stare of the Latina.

But the heat and dehydration and exhaustion forced the thoughts of the two to swirl around his head, and then there was Anthony Cooper's face, his neck bound by chains. There was Kate and the polar-bear cages, and Shannon's missing inhaler, and Charlie, when he was at his weakest, tailing Locke to help Sawyer seize the guns, including the gun that lead to Ana's death. But as he once again struggled to remain conscious, the maelstrom of memories about the island cleared, and there was only Claire, just as lost as he was, just as troubled, and in just as much need of help.

He fell to his knees, and clenched his eyes closed, willing himself to continue the search. He had the motivation, but his body just wouldn't comply.

"Hey cowboy, you ain't looking so hot."

It was her again. He forced himself to look up, and saw Ana take a large bite out of a bright red apple. She threw the remainder to him, and he eagerly bit into it, using his remaining strength to devour the 

fruit. She handed him a bottle of water which he greedily downed, his first drink in God knows how long.

"Here," she stated simply, outstretching an arm to him. He leaned against her, and they hobbled over to a spot in the shade. After he finished the water he looked at her again, this time able to think a bit more rationally.

"How are you here?" He asked. She gave a toothy smile and tapped his forehead twice. "If you're in my head, then how the hell did you just give me water?" He reached over and gently brushed a dark strand of hair off of her face. "How can this be all in my head?"

"I got something else to give you," she said, reaching behind the tree. Sawyer peaked around expectantly, and stood up when she pulled out Aaron's blanket. "Where'd you get that," he said through clenched teeth, tense and even bordering on angry. "How is Claire, is she alright?" he continued. After all, that's what he really wanted to know.

"Now that's an interesting question to ask, if Claire's alright."

"Well is she?" Sawyer demanded, pinning Ana up against a tree. One hand forced her arm against the bark, while the other pointed accusingly into her face. He leaned in close, wedging her so that she could barely move. His eyes glared ominously, staring intently down at her, awaiting a response.

"Last time you had me pinned like this I still gained the upper hand," she said through labored breaths, but with a defiant smile. "Yea, she's fine." Sawyer loosened his grip.

"Where is she?" he demanded.

Ana wiggled out of his grasp and threw him the blanket. "Head east. Trust me, you won't miss her." She walked slowly away from him, still in the same blue jeans and black tank top she had been shot in. She was going west, and wasn't indicating she was looking back.

"And where you headed off to?" Sawyer asked. She didn't respond.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I listened to the song Exit Music by Radiohead a lot while writing this, I suggest you guys check it out; it's a great song (and goes well with this chapter).

The sun had shifted its position in the sky, engulfing the jungle around Sawyer in shade. He appreciated the decrease in temperature, that much was for sure, but it made it harder for him to find his way, although he wasn't even sure as to exactly where he should be heading.

He lumbered through the darkened valley, trying his best to dismiss the events that had happened, but he found that impossible. After all he was where he was because of what had happened; that was undeniable.

"Head east," he sarcastically remarked to himself, and shook his head. But that was the best he had to go on, so if there was even a hope that it would lead him to Claire, if it was some resemblance of a plan, than it was better than aimlessly wandering through the jungle.

He glared straight ahead, oblivious to his surroundings. He regretted his self induced tunnel vision as he felt his feet slip under him, finding their way between a mixture of loose rocks and mud. He began to slide, as he was walking along the edge of a ridge. As he fell he desperately searched for something to grab onto, his arms flailing wildly, with the hope of grabbing on to a near-by tree branch. But his attempts were fruitless and he continued in the painful slide, being assaulted by the falling rubble and the harsh surface of the little ridge.

Soon his descent ended and he slid onto the harsh floor of the jungle in a cloud of dust. Thoroughly disoriented, Sawyer made a feeble attempt to sit up so that he could assess his injuries. He raised his arm to his head and winced, his head bleeding and his arm sore. He forced himself to stand, but his injuries prevented him from doing little more than that. At least nothing seemed broken or fractured, but the scrapes were still enough to cause pain.

But through the haze produced by his injuries, he saw someone not far off. The form seemed to be lying on the ground and from the looks of it asleep or unconscious. Sawyer tentatively approached the figure, exerting considerable effort just to put one foot in front of the other. But as he got closer, he was able to distinguish more of the person's features. He saw dirtied blond hair lying in a heap, scattered on the jungle floor. He saw the delicate body of a woman, alone and vulnerable. He saw Claire.

He hobbled towards her, trying his best to push his pain and injuries out of his mind. But his legs buckled, and gave way from under him. He fell to his knees, unable to stand up, unable to get to Claire. Sawyer tried not to panic, reassured himself that he would get to her. But his body wouldn't comply.

"Claire!" he called out, praying that he'd hear a response, or a noise. He needed something. "Claire!" he tried again. Still nothing. He couldn't see any visible signs of injury, but then again he couldn't see much of anything.

"What do you want with my daughter?" a voice sounded. It was a familiar voice, but he couldn't place it.

"Show yourself," Sawyer growled, looking around quickly.

"You don't remember me? We met in Sydney, shared a drink if I recall," A man walked out from a group of trees behind Sawyer. A small smile formed at the edge of his lips as Sawyer's eyes widened.

"You're..." Sawyer started, but was immediately cut off.

"It doesn't matter who I am. I need to know what you want with my daughter," the man demanded.

"The name's Christian, right? I don't know what you're doin' here, or what your relation to Claire is, but I'm takin her back to the beach."

"No you're not. The island won't let you, and I won't let you."

"Wait, what?"

"Claire is where she needs to be. You cannot change it, this was fated to happen. Go back James." Christian proclaimed his voice ominous and threatening.

Sawyer looked at the man in front of him with hatred gleaming in his eyes, and managing to overcome his injuries (albeit through a great deal of pain), forced himself to stand up. "Screw you," he spat out. He winced as he took a step towards Claire, but found his path blocked.

"You don't understand you can't save Claire; she has to stay here, with me."

"Well then help me understand or git outta my way."

"If Claire goes back to the beach, if she goes somewhere where she can be rescued, then disaster befalls this island."

Sawyer arched his eyebrows, "Disaster? You're kidding me, right?"

But Christian showed no indication he was kidding. He stared intently at Sawyer, and reiterated his warning. "You can't take Claire."

Sawyer ran his hands through his hair, as the frustration and confusion inside of him mingled, a surely deadly combination if he had not been in such a crippled state. He began to think of the implications of Christian's warnings. If this man truly did prevent him from getting to Claire, there may not be another opportunity. But by the merit of the warnings alone, he had to assume she was still alive, that was some relief. There was no way he could take the warnings seriously; they were too vague and too distant.

"I let a man die so that I could find her. I fought with and talked to people who have died because of me so that I could find her. I am going to Claire, and there ain't a thing you or anybody else can do about 

it." Sawyer began to walk forward, gritting his teeth in determination. A gust of wind blew through the trees, kicking up debris from the jungle, and causing Sawyer's hair to cover his face.

Through the gust he could see the dirt mingle in Claire's hair as well, but her arms still lay motionless at her side, unable to defend herself from the gusts. And still he continued to walk, the sounds of the wind and the trees overpowering the warnings of Christian. Sawyer could see his mouth continue to move, but he did not pay attention to any of the words that came out, unwilling to let their meaning disturb his reunification with Claire.

Finally he was within a few feet of her, and he fell to all fours, unable to make it the entire distance. He struggled, using his elbows to prop himself up, and dragged himself the little remaining distance to her.

He placed his hand on her shoulder, and gently shook her. "Claire?" He felt his heart drop, when she once again remained motionless. He ran his hand through her hair, hoping to clear out some of the dirt that had become entangled. Carefully, he pushed down on her shoulder, so that she turned onto her back. He smiled at the sight of her face, though her eyes were still closed and unresponsive. Her chest did rise and fall ever so slightly, proving she was still drawing breath.

"You know she killed him," he heard from behind him.

"What?"

"Miles, she shot Miles. Frankly, I thought that would be enough to stop you. I thought you'd try to save him, before gallivanting out into the jungle. I didn't expect you to let him suffer, to leave him to die, alone in the jungle, a mixture of blood and agony. I must've thought too much of you."

Sawyer remained silent, ignoring the man behind him. He continued to gaze down at Claire, hoping to see her stir, show some sign of movement.

"You cannot take her back, please just listen." Christian pleaded.

"Listen to this," Sawyer shot back, with a small chuckle. Suddenly, he grabbed Claire by the shoulders, and shook her violently. He began to shout her name, his voice as loud as it had ever been.

"Don't do this," Christian pleaded. But Sawyer continued, using all his energy to will her back to consciousness. She let out a cough, showing signs that she was coming back. "You did this, you are going to take the responsibility," Christian said. This caused Sawyer to turn around, but by the time he did the man was gone.

He heard Claire cough again, and he immediately looked back down to her. Slowly she opened her eyes, and squinted up at Sawyer. "Bout time you woke up sleeping beauty," he quipped. She looked around in confusion, before a look of concern came over took her.

"Where's Aaron?" she asked, still groggy. She sat up, and desperately looked around her. "Sawyer, where's Aaron?" she repeated, this time louder. Honestly Sawyer had forgotten about the baby ever since he had slid down the ridge, he simply was focused on getting to Claire. He remembered the 

blanket Ana-Lucia had handed him, tucked securely in his back pocket. He retrieved it and handed it to her.

"I don't know" he stated simply.


End file.
